


Bloody Party

by ChillyHollow



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: F/M, Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:14:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23375962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChillyHollow/pseuds/ChillyHollow
Summary: Cormoran is dragged to a party by his younger brother Al
Relationships: Cormoran Strike & Al Rokeby
Kudos: 13
Collections: The Cormoran Strike Fest of Firsts





	Bloody Party

**Author's Note:**

> For the Cormoran Strike Fest of Firsts, using the prompt Family

Strike surveyed the crowded room, looking for his younger brother Al.“Bloody party,” he thought.“Why do I let Al talk me into these things?”The room was packed with rich people he didn’t know—or want to know.Charlotte had dragged him to many of these things in her debutante days but the people he’d met then were probably ten years older than Al’s friends. He wasn’t likely to see anyone he knew among the guests for someone’s birthday party.Not that he really wanted to see any of them again, unless they were in his office in the market for a private detective.At least they all had the money to pay him, even if “cheap” was not nearly as parsimonious a word for how tightly most wealthy hold onto their cash.

He spotted Al, talking to a short blonde in a distressed brown leather jacket.Talking at her might be a better way to put it, though.The blonde was looking around, trying to catch sight of someone, while Al spoke to her.Cormoran was too far away to hear what he was saying.He moved toward his brother, dodging a lanky brunette who was attempting to catch his eye.That was the problem with these things—the women who tried to hook up with him were just looking for a trophy or something to shock their parents with.He had nothing against a little light relaxation shagging but he preferred women who weren’t well-to-do socialites, having spent sixteen years, off and on, with the queen of their species.He already knew the pitfalls of going that route.

Cormoran finally reached Al and his companion, who looked up in surprise as he loomed over her.“Aren’t you a big one?” she said with a bit of a Welsh lilt to her voice.She had big blue eyes and very fair skin to go with her yellow hair.“My brother Cormoran,” Al said proudly.Cormoran was always embarrassed when Al introduced him this way, but touched also.That was why he was here, to be a better big brother to Al who might be out of school now but still seemed to be a kid in many ways.The age gap between them seemed even larger when it came to life experience.Al wasn’t working, had no real direction in life.He just drifted from party to party, or from one resort home to another, occasionally being a DJ at the latest trendy club.Not Strike’s cup of tea.

Cormoran didn’t really have the sort of relationship with Al that he had with Lucy.He’d grown up with his half sister and wouldn’t have hesitated to give her advice if asked.But Al was different.He had not met Al until they were both grown men.Al’s life had been sheltered.He’d gone to private schools, had fabulous vacations, fast cars, never lacked for anything.Cormoran’s life with his mother had always been precarious, moving from squat to commune to his uncle’s house in Cornwall and back again.The only thing they had in common was a father whom Al adored and whom Cormoran didn’t really know.So giving Al advice wasn’t something he felt qualified or able to do.But he could sense Al needed guidance.So he was doing what he could, without stepping into a role he wasn’t suited to fill. Instead he went places with Al when invited, even if it meant another meaningless party at a posh hotel or fancy restaurant.

“Nice to meet you, Cormoran,” the little blonde said.Well, she had manners at least.Many of Al’s friends did not.So he smiled down at her and said, “You are…?”

“Oh, I’m Betsan.Betsan Rhys.”Al beamed and said,“Betsan is a very pretty name.”“Thank you,” she responded.Cormoran could feel her rolling her eyes.Al could use some tips on picking up girls.Now that he could help with. He smiled down at her and said, “It is better than being named after a giant.”

“There is that,” Betsan smiled back at him.“Oh?” Al said.“I didn’t know you were named after a giant.”He looked at little at sea.Cormoran sometimes forgot Al knew no more about Cormoran than Cormoran knew about Al.

“You are brothers?” Betsan was looking from one to the other, obviously seeing no resemblance at all between the two of them.“Half brothers,” Cormoran answered.“Al got his looks from our father’s family and I’m the spitting image of my mother’s older brother.”Al was the shortest of the Rokeby boys by far but he had his father’s handsome face, sleek straight hair and famous divergent squint.Cormoran had curly hair, a nose that had been broken more than once, and the build of a bouncer at a strip club.“I never would have guessed you were related,” Betsan remarked.Al gave her a charming smile.It appeared to bounce off Betsan’s armor.

Strike was a little intrigued.Was Betsan gay, in a committed relationship already, or just too rich and famous herself to be impressed by Jonny Rokeby’s son?He thought he could rule out Rich & Famous.Now that he was close, he saw Betsan’s leather jacket was genuinely old and battered, not chemically treated to appear so.She wore cheap trainers and High Street jeans with her black turtleneck.Her little sterling silver hoop earrings were plain.Her nails were cut short and unpolished and her haircut was a practical bob.Nothing was unique or high quality, although everything was clean and neat.What was this Welsh girl doing at this party for the upper crust?Maybe the same thing he was doing.

“Know anybody here?” he asked her.“Just my cousin Marilyn,” was the answer.(Al of course knew everyone, or at least knew of them.His social circle was small and exclusive.)“Which one is she?” Cormoran asked.Betsan pointed at the redhead who was the center of attention in the room, due to her big laugh and even bigger bosom.Al said, “Isn’t she on First Dates Hotel?” 

Cormoran looked blank.“First Dates Hotel?”Al smiled affectionately at him.“It’s one of those reality shows.You go on a date with someone you’ve never met at a hotel restaurant and if you hit it off, you can spent the night at the hotel together.” 

Betsan said, “It is about the stupidest thing ever, but she’s been on it three times now.That’s why I’m in London.My grandmother thinks she needs a chaperone.”She looked over at Marilyn who was sitting in the lap of a peer of the realm, guzzling champagne.“London needs protection from her, more like.”She sighed.“That guy had better watch out or Marilyn will have him back home raising Welsh Black cattle and herding sheep.That’s what she wants—a farm of her own.” 

Al was looking at Betsan as if sheep herding wasn’t totally out of the question for him if she was part of the package.“Are you a farmer?”

“Not me!I’m a paramedic with the Welsh Ambulance Services.I don’t even like sheep.Stupid things.They aren’t into everything like goats, though, “ she admitted.Cormoran smiled at her.“What about cattle?” 

“They taste good,” she said, grinning back at him.Al laughed, then looked embarrassed as both Betsan and Cormoran glanced at him.Cormoran clapped his brother on his back and said, “How about we go for burgers?Collect Marilyn and come with us, Betsan?” 

“Sure,” she answered and using her small statue like a weapon, she slipped through the crowd.She was back shortly, dragging her protesting cousin with her.The protests stopped when Marilyn caught sight of Al and Cormoran and heard they wanted food.“Burgers?Can we go to the Blacklock in Shoreditch?I’ve heard they have glorious big burgers.”Al nodded and said he’d get the car and meet them out front.Cormoran grinned at the two women.“You haven’t seen his car.One of you is going to have to sit in my lap.”

Betsan rolled her eyes again.“It had better be me.At least I won’t crush you.”

Al brought his Alfa Romeo to a stop in front of the hotel.At least he had traded in last year’s two seater for a sedan, Cormoran thought.Marilyn clambered into the back, waving at some of the party people who’d come out to see them off.Cormoran got into the front seat, pulling Betsan in after him to land on his lap.She was little but strong, and arranged herself the way she wanted without his help.He carefully and chastely put one arm around her waist to hold her steady as the sports car sped toward their destination.She braced herself on the dash, ignored Cormoran, and looked straight ahead when she wasn’t watching Al driving. 

Marilyn was quiet in the back seat.That surprised Cormoran a bit so he turned his head to look back at her.He had taken her for a talker until he realized she was on her phone. She saw him looking and said, “I’m checking the menu.I want to know what we’re in for.Looks like a good chop house.The burgers should be fine but they don’t have them on the menu.”

“Leave that to me,” Al said from the front seat.Cormoran thought wryly that Al probably had plenty of practice charming (and paying) restaurants for specialty items and good service.

Before he knew it, they were in Shoreditch.Helped along by Marilyn’s phone directions, they found their way to the restaurant.It was in an old converted warehouse, so it was all concrete floors and bare brick walls with black leather chairs around black lacquered tables.Al managed to get them one of the large tables for four without even trying, although Strike thought perhaps money subtly changed hands.The waitress succumbed to Al’s smiles and said she’d ask the chef about burgers.“With cheese and bacon, please,” added Marilyn.The waitress blinked in surprise, perhaps at the sight of Marilyn’s exceptionally low-cut red dress or perhaps she was a fan of First Dates Hotel and had recognized Marilyn. 

Regardless, they were served double cheeseburgers with bacon in record time, along with big helpings of chips.The waitress also brought them plenty of onions, catsup, HP sauce and a chili-hollandaise sauce.Both Al and Betsan eyed their heaping plates with misgivings until Cormoran told them to take off one of the burgers and eat it as a single.That worked, and had the positive side effect of Strike and Marilyn having a third burger each to nibble on once they’d finished their own double cheeseburger, chips and lagers.Cormoran noted with approval that Al, who was driving, drank the alcohol-free lager.Betsan mostly drank water, not being a big drinker at the best of times, as she explained it.“Seen too many road accidents from drinking to really enjoy it now.” 

Though the waitress tempted them with white chocolate cheesecake, they all turned down dessert in favor of sitting and talking as Cormoran and Marilyn stole untouched chips from Al’s and Betsan’s plates.Cormoran learned that the cousins lived near their grandfather’s farm, which Marilyn hoped to take over one day, and she also hoped to be able to buy the adjoining farm which belonged to Peter Thomas, “Baron Thomas as he calls himself, who doesn’t know a chicken from a duck.” 

Betsan herself had no such ambitions, “Although I help out on the farm when I can, our Rhys grandparents are getting on in years and Marilyn’s an only child like me.It’s impossible to get farm hands these days.”

Al wanted to know what farm hands did, so he was treated to a long lecture about lambing season, inoculating the beef cattle, moving hay, moving stock, the best weather forecasters in Wales, how to time the sale of sheep, and of course, why motorists always have five car pileups when Marilyn needs Betsan at the farm.Betsan rolled her eyes and commented, “Which of course is why Marilyn goes on a dating show—to try and trap a man to come help.”

Marilyn crossed really nice legs and said, “Well, it might work still.Some of those guys at that party tonight have big bucks.We’ve got another week of tv show taping which means a party every night, right?”Al smiled and nodded.“And I’ll go to them all with you and introduce you around.Dad knows everyone.You’ll need to steer clear of that guy whose lap you were sitting on, by the way.He might be in the House of Lords but he’s dead broke and too old for farmwork.” 

Cormoran sat listening, amazed at his little brother stepping up, trying to help two strangers catch Marilyn a farm hand/rich husband.Betsan silently sipped the cup of tea Al had procured for her through a sweet smile aimed at their waitress, listening.Cormoran had the impression she was weighing Al against some unknown standard.What he had no idea.Well, Al was a big boy.He probably could hold his own against two farm lasses from Wales.Cormoran signaled for the check, which he insisted on paying, despite protests from Al.“You can leave the tip.”Cormoran knew quite well that Al would probably leave their waitress much more than the bill amount. 

Betsan and Marilyn thanked them both for a lovely meal as they wandered out to the street again.Miraculously Al’s car was still there.Cormoran opened the back door for Marilyn to climb in and was turning to open his own door when there was a scream of terror down the street where a knot of young people had been standing when they exited the restaurant.Betsan took off running, Cormoran limping after her as fast as he could go.Al of course was much faster as he was younger and fit, so Cormoran arrived after the other two did.Betsan was kneeling by a young man with a pale face and blood pouring from a wound in his arm.Al was taking off his necktie, apparently on Betsan’s orders, so Strike pulled out his phone and called 999 for an ambulance.Betsan wrapped Al’s Hermes tie around the stranger’s arm and started rattling off information for Strike to pass on to emergency services.The man had been stabbed by an acquaintance over a woman.They’d all been drinking.Obviously, thought Strike.No woman was worth a stab wound but alcohol made you do silly things.

Marilyn came up behind Strike and took Al gently by the arm, pulling him up and away from the wounded man.“Let Betsan have some room, Al,” she said.Cormoran spent the time waiting for an ambulance talking to the man’s friends who were gathered nearby in shock, taking note of names as he was sure they’d be gone by the time the police arrived.  Marilyn stood by Al, patting his arm in a comforting way.

Uniformed officers arrived with the ambulance crew, who checked Betsan’s work, pronounced it “good” and departed with the wounded man and Al’s expensive tie.Marilyn took a tissue from her little purse to gently wipe blood splatters off Betsan’s hands as the police took statements from all of them, nodding appreciatively as Strike rattled off the names of the wounded man’s group of friends.Soon they were free to go, so they climbed back into Al’s car, and headed towards Strike’s flat, which was closest.Betsan was shaking a little in Strike’s lap, but when he asked her if she was ok, she explained it was adrenalin.“I’m always like this after a call.It’ll wear off once I’m back at the hotel.”Marilyn reached across the seat and patted Betsan’s arm.“You did good, honey.”

Strike made sure his brother was ok to drive before they left him at Denmark Street since Al looked pale, but he seemed composed and insisted he would be fine.His Alfa Romeo slipped off down the street, Strike watching and hoping that Al would get the women to their hotel and himself back to their father’s expensive London townhouse in one piece. 

The next day he got a text from Al saying he’d gotten the two women back just fine and would be going out with them that evening, asking Cormoran if he’d like to come along.Strike had to decline as he was working, but he asked Al to keep him informed as to how things went with the Great Farm Hand/Husband Chase.He thought wryly to himself that would make a much better tv show than the one Marilyn was participating in.

Strike didn’t get an update from Al for three more days, but when he did, it was an invitation to dinner in Kensington with Al and the Welsh visitors.They were going to the Thali Restaurant, a good curry spot, Strike had heard.He agreed to meet them at 8 p.m.Strike was a bit late arriving but he easily spotted Marilyn’s red hair and Betsan’s leather jacket.Of Al there was no sign.The women greeted him cheerfully, then explained Al would be back in a minute.“He’s gone to get your father,” Marilyn explained.“Rokeby?” Strike asked in puzzlement.Marilyn nodded.“We want his opinion.”

“About what?” Strike asked, totally at sea as to how his rock star father’s opinion could possibly apply to farming, Marilyn’s hunt for a rich husband/farm hand, or anything at all beyond music, actually.Betsan took pity on him.“We’ve had a really nice time looking for a rich husband for Marilyn, and Al was a lot of help sorting the wheat from the chaff, but we realized no one was making the cut.None of the rich enough guys really seemed interested in agriculture or Wales, although they all were definitely interested in Marilyn!” Marilyn nodded, then smiled happily at the waiter who had arrived with a big bowl of lamb curry and a platter of naan bread.“I ordered for us,” Marilyn explained.“We’re trying all the lamb dishes in London to see what sorts of lamb we should be raising for the restaurant scene here.”

“It was Al’s idea,” Betsan added, looking up as Al himself appeared, their famous father in tow.Everyone in the restaurant seemed to stop what they were doing to stare.Strike wished he was anywhere else.The effect fame had on his life was intrusive and corrosive.Marilyn and Betsan didn’t seem to notice, though.They both smiled and nodded at Al and then his father who seemed as ill at ease as Strike himself as he sat down with them.

Strike decided Betsan would give the most coherent explanation of what the heck was going on.“What are you three up to, Betsan?”The waiter appeared with a range of delicious-looking appetizers that he arranged in the center of the table.Rokeby looked at the two women and his two sons, then the food, and decided to help himself to pakora and palak chaat while everyone else explained why he had been dragged here.

Al give Strike a pleading look.“Marilyn and Betsan haven’t had any luck with finding either a sponsor (he softened the word from what Strike privately thought should be “sucker”) for their farm or someone willing to work there.No one really appealed to Marilyn as a rich husband…”—Rokeby appeared to choke slightly on the potato dish but took a sip of water and looked Marilyn over head to toe. 

“…so we three put our heads together and I’m going to go back to Wales with them.”Strike put down his beer glass and frankly stared at Al.“I want to learn farming and where better?If it really grabs me the way it has Marilyn, and Betsan thinks it will, then I’ll stay there and learn the business.If it works out, then maybe Dad can loan us the money to buy the farm next door.”Al gave Betsan a sweet smile that was returned.“A-ha,” thought Strike.“So that’s the way the wind is blowing.”He’d known Marilyn wasn’t interested in Al just by her body language but Betsan had always been more reserved.He was starting to wonder if Marilyn had another candidate in mind, a local one.“Marilyn, is there someone back at home who might be a good fit for your farm?”

She gave him a long hard look.“Well, the vet Jimmy Price is a hard worker and his mother is a fabulous baker.I’ve wanted her bread and scone recipes for years.”

Rokeby appeared to come to himself.“Just why are recipes that important?I get why a good worker, especially one who is a vet, for your farm is a good thing, but food?” 

“Al says we need to diversify our products to cater to London restaurants.If we have great bread and scones, that’s something we can produce all year round when it’s not the right time of year to slaughter.”Their waiter appeared with various bread appetizers, from lamb rolled in naan to lamb patties on pita bread and vegetable samosas. 

Rokeby plowed on.“So you want Al to come work on your farm to learn the business, help you with chores and diversification, and after he learns the business, come up with the money to expand it by buying the farm next door?”Marilyn beamed at him, happy that he understood their plan so swiftly.Rokeby looked at Strike, who shrugged. 

“Al, you do understand that farm work starts before dawn and there are no days off, even for Christmas, because the animals and crops depend on you and on the weather?”Rokeby laid out what Strike was thinking—was farming the right choice for a man who’d never worked hard a day in his life, who had never even held a job?Al nodded enthusiastically.“I want to try it, Dad.It sounds wonderful, working with my hands, making things grow, taking care of the animals.”

Betsan intervened.“Marilyn and I are going home day after tomorrow and we want Al to come with us.He can stay with our grandparents at the farm and start to see what farm life is like.If he really does enjoy working on the farm and thinks he’s cut out for that sort of life, then we can talk more about his becoming a partner with Marilyn.We want to do this a step at a time since Al has no experience.He needs to know what he is getting into and the best way to do that is to work on the farm for a few months.”

Rokeby nodded, then looked at Al.“All right.I’ll talk to your mother.You need to figure out what you need to take with you to Wales.I doubt you have suitable clothes to work on a farm.”Marilyn said, “We’ll make a list.”Strike was amused to see her pull a notebook and pen out of her tiny purse.He looked at his father and said, “I’m going to head out. You guys have a lot of work to do.”He stood and was surprised that Rokeby stood also, tossing some large bank notes on the table.Rokeby said, “It was interesting to meet you both but Cormoran is right, we need to leave you three to get ready to head north.Come on, son, I’ll give you a ride home.”

Cormoran and Rokeby walked out of the restaurant together.Cormoran pulled out his cigarettes as they waited on the sidewalk for the chauffeur to bring Rokeby’s car from around the corner.He offered one to his father, who took it and pulled out a lighter and lit his own and his son’s cigarette.“I didn’t know you smoked,” Cormoran said for lack of anything else to say.

“I don’t much any more, just when I’m stressed.Al’s going to be a farmer?!What is your reading of those two women?”

Strike thought and then said, “Marilyn probably gets most anything she wants, but I think Betsan is the brains behind the tv show stunt.They seem fond of each other and they also seem to want to make their grandfather’s farm a going concern, but I don’t know about Al being part of that.He has absolutely no experience.When I met them for the first time, Al was trying to chat up Betsan.She paid him no mind but I think she’s softening toward him.Al’s a sweet guy and of course he can—through you—help bankroll their farm expansion.I don’t get a sense that they are using him, though.It’s more like a grand adventure that they’ve invited Al on.He’ll learn farming and Betsan will take his measure as a man.It might work out for all of them.If it doesn’t, no harm.” 

The Rolls stopped right in front of the two men, so Strike opened the rear door for his father, then stepped around to the other side to climb in back with him.Rokeby sighed and gave the chauffeur Strike’s address.The car moved quietly away, heading toward Denmark Street.Father and son smoked in silence for a while, then Strike said, “I wonder more about Marilyn.I think now that this vet was her plan all along, so why did she agree to this tv show?Was she looking for a business partner?I imagine a country vet isn’t going to have the money to buy a farm, not if they have expansion plans.That will take a lot of money, even if they are very careful, and if the current owner knows nothing about farming, they probably will have to make expensive repairs and improvements.”

“Maybe she was trying to arrange someone for her cousin.You probably don’t meet many eligible men in rural Wales.What does Betsan do?” Rokeby wanted to know.

“She’s a paramedic, and probably a good one.We saw her in action the first night we met when she patched up a knifing victim in front of the restaurant we went to.She was fast and efficient.Her sister was complaining that she gets called out for emergencies when she’s needed at the farm.I supposed if Marilyn snags her vet and her sister finds someone interested in the farm, that’s better for them.And if they find someone for Betsan with deep enough pockets, that’s better still.”Strike stubbed out his cigarette as the car turned onto his street.He looked at Rokeby.“First Dates Hotel is on tonight.That’s the reality program Marilyn is on.Want to come up to my flat and watch it?I’ve got a bottle of whiskey in the office….”

Rokeby nodded, and put his own cigarette out.“Let me text Jenny I’m going to be late.”He pulled out a fancy phone, sent a message to Al’s mother, then he tapped on the glass separating passengers from the driver.“Charley, I’m going to go watch tv with Cormoran here.I’ll text you when I’m ready to head home, ok?It’ll be at least an hour, right?”He looked at Cormoran who nodded.They climbed out of the Rolls and Strike unlocked the exterior door, then led his father up the first flight of stairs where he unlocked his office and turned on the lights.Rokeby looked around with interest as Strike went into the inner office where he removed the bottle of whiskey that had been a Christmas gift from Nick and Ilsa from his bottom desk drawer. 

“Ok, we’re set.”Strike locked up again after turning out the lights and led his father up another flight of stairs to his tiny flat.Rokeby examined the small but neat space and said,“I think Andy Oldham had an office in this building back when I was starting out in music.He was probably on the first floor, though.”Strike pointed his father toward one of the kitchen chairs, got glasses out of the cupboard and put them along with a large glass ashtray on the kitchen table.He turned on the small television, passing the remote to his father saying only, “It’s on BBC One at nine.“ 

He got ice out of the little freezer and put a couple of cubes in each glass, then poured them both a couple of fingers of booze and settled in another kitchen chair, resting his bum leg up on a third.Rokeby pulled the last chair over and, crossing his legs, put them up on that chair.They sat smoking and drinking, feet up, watching the absurd First Dates Hotel opening credits.Marilyn appeared about twenty minutes in, obviously an audience favorite, ruthlessly interrogating her handsome but stunned-looking date about his likes, dislikes, books he’d read, where he went to school, favorite foods, etc. 

“Being vegan is not the way to go, buddy,” Strike muttered.His dad grinned, so they toasted that thought as Marilyn walked out of the restaurant, leaving her speechless date behind.The camera lovingly focused on her lush figure as she walked down the stairs and faded to a commercial break.Marilyn was back in a few minutes, being debriefed by the program staff about what went wrong.“He’s just not a hard worker, anyone can see that, and he’s a vegetarian?!I raise sheep for a living!This isn’t going to work, people.”Marilyn stood up and headed for the door, announcing “I’m going to the bar.”And she was gone.Rokeby laughed.“Bet the show runners had a time with that one.”

“Marilyn is certainly a character.I think ‘ruthless’ was a word invented just for her,”Cormoran commented.

Rokeby sobered.“What is Al getting himself in to?”

“Don’t worry.Betsan will protect him from the worst of Marilyn. He’ll most likely be back in London in a month, and if not, well, there are worse things than being a farmer.He needs something to do with his life, you know.If drive means anything, Marilyn will make a success of farming and he might do worse than being involved in a thriving business.Al did come up with the idea of selling their mutton and lamb to London restaurants and doing baked goods on the off season, so he may well be the partner they need.He has the connections to help smooth the way for that with the London chefs.”

Cormoran hesitated, then offered.“I’ll run a background check on Marilyn and Betsan and find out as much as I can that way.If there are any problems I’ll go to Wales and drag him back.You can start subtly looking at this Baron Peter Thomas, what he has in the bank and how willing he might be to sell the farm near their grandfather’s.And figure out what upgrades the farm might need.From what Marilyn said, he’s not much of a farmer, and they’ll want to add a commercial kitchen at the least.That’s going to add to the cost but maybe you can bargain down the purchase price by dangling needed improvements and repairs, assuming it gets that far.”Rokeby nodded, finished his drink, and, lifting his long legs off the spare chair, stood up. 

“Thanks for the drink, son.And thank you for being such a good brother to Al.”The men looked at each other, then Rokeby turned and left the flat.Cormoran heard him clattering down the iron stairs and then the door banged and he was gone.

Cormoran started the background check the next morning before heading out for surveillance.The preliminary data didn’t throw up any red flags, so before bed he dug deeper, looking at the two women, inspecting their social media, combing through the publicity blurbs the tv show had on their website, looking at maps of the area to pinpoint their Grandfather Rhys’ farm.Betsan didn’t use social media very much but Marilyn used it with gusto.He found a photo of Marilyn with her arm around the waist ofa beaming sandy-haired stocky man standing in front of a van that read Price Mobile Veterinary Services.This most likely was Jimmy Price.It didn’t look like he would mind being the victim of Marilyn’s scheming.He printed the photo out and put it in a folder along with the small amount of financials he’d been able to dig out. 

There were no arrest records for either woman, but Betsan was briefly mentioned in an online news story about a crash between a bus and a tanker that sent five to the hospital as among the attending emergency personnel.He printed that out also and added it to his file.Strike found a short profile of the vet.He appeared to be both competent and solvent with little debt so that went into the file with the other information.Then he pondered how to share this information with Rokeby.He would have to wait until Al actually left for Wales with the two women later tomorrow.He didn’t think Al would appreciate his brother checking into his friends.

Al texted him early the next morning, saying he was catching the train to Wales and inviting Cormoran to the station to see him off.Cormoran put his slender file into his backpack and set off about nine with a big takeout coffee to sustain him.Paddington Station was bustling even though it was Sunday morning, but Strike had no trouble finding Al standing with his parents on the platform with Marilyn and Betsan nearby. 

Al’s mother was hugging him as if he was leaving on a polar expedition while Rokeby (trying to avoid notice in a big brimmed hat and long coat) chatted to Marilyn and Betsan.Cormoran nodded to them all as he joined the little group of people.Marilyn gave him a big, excited smile.She was happy to be going home, that was for certain.Betsan was standing close to Al, and not paying attention to Strike.Rokeby walked over to stand next to his oldest son.“I guess we are as ready as we’ll ever be to see Al off.” 

“I see he has a duffle bag.”

“He bought six pairs of jeans, thermal underwear, insulated boots, heavy socks and sweaters, long sleeved t-shirts, a knit cap, and that water-proof coat you see.His mother bought him insulated gloves and a cashmere scarf.I bought him a box of condoms.” 

Strike grinned at Rokeby’s cynicism.“Best to be prepared,” was all he said though.Al excitedly joined them, giving his big brother a hug.“You made it!”

“Yes, wouldn’t miss seeing you off.And of course Betsan and Marilyn.”He opened his knapsack and pulled out a bag of pastries which he’d bought when he got his coffee, handing it to Marilyn who opened the bag and squealed in delight.“You are a lifesaver, Cormoran! Betsan wouldn’t let me make time for a full breakfast this morning.” 

Betsan rolled her eyes.“If we’d waited for you to eat we’d still be at the breakfast table.What more do you need than a bowl of oatmeal?!”

“Coffee,” said Marilyn, Strike and Rokeby simultaneously. 

Al was conciliatory, “Well, we can get coffee on the train.”Strike wondered in what alternate reality coffee was served on trains, but then realized they were probably all going first class.The television company probably would have sprung for that but if not, Rokeby would have.His guess was confirmed when the conductor shouted, “All aboard!” and the three travelers moved toward the front of the train.Al clapped his brother on the shoulder, then embraced both his parents while Strike shook hands with Marilyn and then Betsan, who leaned in and whispered to him, “I’ll take good care of Al.”

“See that you do,” was his answer but he smiled as he said it.

Everyone climbed onto the train or stood waving, and soon the train was gone.Strike, his father and stepmother walked out of the station together.The Rolls was waiting at the curb but before his father could enter the car, Strike pulled out the folder with the slight information he’d found from his backpack and handed it to him.“Research,” he said.Rokeby nodded his thanks, got into the car after his wife and they were gone.

Two weeks later Strike got a text from Al.“Need books training Shetland sheep dog 2 herd.Having fun.”

Strike found books and had them sent to Al.He texted Rokeby about the request and got a reply.“I provided Shetland sheep dog puppy with famous herding pedigree.U got off easy.”Strike grinned.He didn’t hear anything more from Al for another month, then got a text, “Working hard.Loving it!Wish U were here.”

Strike had some experience of farming on some of the various communes he’d lived at as a child.He wrote back, “Prefer city life to farming.Don’t tell M.”

Al texted back, “U R safe.M engaged 2 vet.”Strike wasn’t at all surprised except that it had taken Marilyn this long.Probably she was very busy teaching Al.In another two weeks he got an email from Al with an image of a grinning Al in overalls sitting on an upturned feed bucket holding a newborn lamb.A smiling Betsan was standing behind Al, her hands on his shoulders.This one he forwarded to Rokeby with a note that read “Al is settling in.M engaged to vet.”

He got a thumbs up in reply with a note.“Farm purchase price plus needed basic renovations will cost half million pounds unless I can do deal as owner dead broke.”

Strike was sure a half million pounds would be forthcoming if needed.It all hinged on whether Al would stay the course.After four months, it was looking likely. 

After six months, he got a phone call from Al.“Hey, Bro!Want to come up and visit the farm?Marilyn promises no chores for guests.” 

“I can’t, Al.I’m working.Why don’t you invite your parents?”

“I have.They are coming up but I wanted you, too.It’s the perfect time to come, just before the sheep sales.”

“Sorry.I can’t leave London now. Is Eddie going, too?”Al’s younger brother Eddie was part of a local band in London.Strike had never heard him play.Eddie wasn’t really interested in getting to know Strike, and handling one younger brother was about all he was up to, anyway.

“No, he’s got a gig in Hammersmith for a month.It’s his first long contract so I can’t ask him to drop everything.I know you are busy.It would just be nice to see you.” 

“And you want help wheedling something out of your parents, right?”

Al laughed.“Well, Dad would never deny you anything.”Strike privately doubted that.But all he said was, “If you really want a large sum, work up a business plan with and without the cash infusion.Show that you are ready to proceed whether you have his help or not.”

“Good idea, Bro.Well, Betsan sends her love.Oh, Marilyn’s pregnant!She and Jimmy are over the moon.The wedding will be while my parents are here, which is nice.Marilyn says they need the festivities out of the way before the stock sales.” 

“Give Marilyn my best and Jimmy my congratulations, will you?I’m sorry I’m going to miss the wedding but you can send me pictures.” 

In due course the photos arrived.Marilyn beamed from many of the pictures, arm around her new husband.There were pictures of the new Shetland sheepdog puppy Gypsy, who was small and active and following Al around.Al’s parents were in some pictures, looking amused at the antics of the chickens or sheep, or admiring a bull.Betsan drove a small tractor pulling a cart full of hay, the puppy riding in her lap.Al posed on horseback, smiling happily and looking both more muscular and tanned than Strike remembered.Then there was the final picture.Al and Betsan, holding hands, standing in front of a farmhouse, looking at each other with stars in their eyes. 

Al sent that one separately, with a short note.“Come to our wedding?”

Cormoran smiled.That’s one bloody party he didn’t want to miss.


End file.
